


Predictions

by amarmeme



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Quest: Promise of Destruction, F/F, Fireside Ambiance, First Kiss, Holding Hands, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Seekers of Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 10:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14542659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarmeme/pseuds/amarmeme
Summary: Malika Cadash tries to provide support to Cassandra after the events of Promise of Destruction.





	Predictions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweettasteofbitter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettasteofbitter/gifts).



Malika cannot recall seeing Cassandra’s hands before. Always covered in gloves or gauntlets, tonight they’re illuminated by witch and firelight both, Vivienne having lended the Seeker a wavering ball of magical light before retiring to her tent. Even Sera has slunk away, disappearing into the shadows, knowing full well how the Inquisitor feels about the solemn woman beside her. It is a mercy Sera does not make a crass joke on her exit, but Malika pleads with eyes half threatening and the elf bows out with an exaggerated stretch and moan. Cassandra fails to notice any of it, engrossed by the book that rests on her lap. She traces the cover with her long, tapered fingers, as if to absorb the secrets without even cracking open a page. Anxiety bubbles up in Malika’s chest just watching Cassandra linger over the book, but she will not push. She’s too mesmerized by the surprisingly slender fingers before her and Cassandra’s gentle nature with her new burden. What she'd envisioned Cassandra's hands to look like is nowhere near reality. She thought perhaps they'd be knotty and scarred like her own, not nearly so lithe. How could a warrior have such beautiful fingers?

The fire crackles before them and a breeze rattles the trees at the base of Caer Oswin. The cool, crisp smell of the autumn leaves doesn’t perk her foggy countenance; the day has simply been too tiring and too long. Malika fights a yawn as her thick, stubby hands work the oiled cloth against her axe, cleaning and treating the leather grip as a paltry excuse for staying awake. Cassandra seems impervious to sleep.

“You need not worry,” Cassandra says, glancing at her after several minutes of solid concentration. “I will be fine if you retire.”

Even though she knows it to be true -- Cassandra needs no one to stand as her guard -- Malika hates the thought of her all alone in the dead of night, only the crickets to keep her company. She stops her task, wiping the excess oil coating her fingers on the side of her pants instead of the stained cloth.  

"Am I that transparent?” she teases. A glint of amusement crosses Cassandra’s profile, revealed by the witchlight. The faint blue cast makes her features shine, a beacon of hope and perseverance despite everything that happened that day. With the fire low enough to keep her own face mostly shadowed, Malika's smirk of pleasure at Cassandra’s reaction is well hidden. While she has flirted with the warrior on countless occasions, it has yet to go further than words. Surely Cassandra must know how Malika feels though. She's hardly been secretive about her admiration.

"You have yawned no less than five times.” Cassandra stops tracing the book and looks at her kindly. “It is my burden to do this alone.”

The statement is so wrong to Malika’s ears she can’t stop herself from speaking. “No it isn’t.”

“No?” Cassandra’s brows raise curiously.

Malika puts her axe down against the log where she sits, angling towards Cassandra at last. Why Cassandra believes she must do something so difficult by herself fills her with sadness. Cassandra is strong no doubt, but just hours before she was forced to end her apprentice’s life and wipe out the rest of her self-proclaimed family. No matter how fierce of a force Cassandra is on the battlefield, this burden cannot be easy. Malika means to offer any support she can, taking ahold of the hands that rest on the book between them. She squeezes chilled fingers. It fills her with a burst of tenderness, amplified thousandfold as Cassandra shifts, leaning in closer, accepting the touch for the kindness that was intended.

“Earlier you said the Seekers were your family,” Malika says softly. “You must know that more people care about you than the Order, Cassandra. I will always be here for you, whether you ask it of me or not.” She squeezes again for emphasis, smiling at the lovely woman who now concentrates on the right words to say. Malika’s heart seems to stop beating, refusing to move until Cassandra offers a response. The moment feels poignant, more honest and real than the times they've been alone before. Perhaps it's the crackle of the fire, the blanket of darkness around them, the closeness of their bodies. Time seems to have stopped to allow them this moment together.

Cassandra takes a deep breath and Malika dares not move. “After Anthony,” she begins, then changes her mind, shaking her head. Malika gulps, hands still continuing to offer comfort to not just a friend, but the woman she's come to love very much. “I am unused to such support. You might even think me to be overly distrusting of others, but in truth I have been alone for some time.”  

Cassandra squints, as if trying to read Malika’s eyes in spite of the low light. Malika scoots closer, letting the witchlight fall across her face, along with its complicated web of scars that crosses her right cheek and nose, the blond hair above her upper lip that human women don't seem to grow and the earnest desire in her grey eyes. She hopes above everything that Cassandra likes what she sees. Could she love a dwarf? A battle-touched Carta thug like herself? Part of her doubts, but there's no way of knowing without being honest. Cassandra always inspires her to be completely truthful. A rush of courage flows through her. 

“Cassandra, if I had my way, you'd never be alone again.”

An unmistakable flush crosses Cassandra's cheeks. To Malika's delight, the warrior becomes adorably flustered. “I -- I find myself glad to hear it.”

Instead of returning to a normal rhythm, Malika's heart threatens to burst from her chest. She twines her fingers with Cassandra's and grins broadly as the Seeker scrambles for more words to say. Instead of letting her fluster for too long, Malika steals the distance between them and silences her sputters with a sudden kiss. Cassandra answers with returned passion, plush lips soft and welcoming beneath her own. The kiss is all too brief, as Cassandra breaks away first, but before Malika can protest, Cassandra bows to rest her forehead against Malika's. They breathe together, lean in each other's space while the problems of the Inquisition and the Seekers of Truth fall away just for a moment longer.

"Thank you for staying beside me," Cassandra says.

"It's exactly what you would have done for me," she hums. 

Cassandra nods in agreement. The touch is a different kind of sweetness from their kiss, one that given how the day began, Malika could never have anticipated. She's never been more pleased to be hopelessly bad at predictions. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this captured some sweetness for you. And, blushy Cassandra is the best kind!!


End file.
